


Death Comma Herself

by Bottom_PeteParker



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, spideypool - Fandom
Genre: Andrew Garfield - Freeform, Death, Fluff, Grim Reapers, Love, M/M, Memories, Oops, Past Relationship(s), Sad, Spideypool - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Wade loves Peter, bitch me too, it didnt work with the tine, legal age gap, wade wants to die, was gonna be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:34:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bottom_PeteParker/pseuds/Bottom_PeteParker
Summary: Wades POV of his healing process and relationship with his immortality due to his healing factor.!!A present for @Death_Herself. Its a little late because I was sick. I was going to be smut but it went a different way oops.Anyway I love her so look at her stuff!!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Death_Herself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Death_Herself/gifts).



Wade's vision returned slowly and he saw the red mask and white eye details staring at him. The pink lips and button nose were exposed and dried blood clung to parts of his face. Peter sighed with relief and patted Wade's chest.

“You okay?” Death was normal in their lives but Wade felt guilty for being the one to desensitize Peter. He felt the blood rushing to his toes so he flexed them in his shoes. Wade's lips weren't quite ready to work so he hummed. Peter just nods.

“You're a real pain in the ass Wade. There was literally no reason for that.” Peter sounds annoyed, and Wade's face twitch as the muscles start to come back into his control. He wishes he could smile right now.

“Seriously. What part of ‘let's have a date on the Empire State building to relax’ calls for that? None of it. That was just so…..extra.” He waves his hands in annoyance. Wade tests his hands, nope. Not there yet. His eyes can barely follow the directs Peter's' hands fly but he decides to focus on his mouth.

Wade enjoyed their time together, especially that mouth. As his mind wanders, he feels disappointed when his body doesn't respond to those blissful memories. Peter continues his rant. “You were shot a few times in the leg and we were going to hold date night but you said it didn't hurt. You wanted to. So we go up with your shot up leg and you decide it's fun to impress me.” 

Wade's nose starts to itch, a good sign. He's working on getting his fingers back. “One day without you ruining it! That's all I want!” his face muscles notice that a stiff frown attempting to form.

“I just want to see you happy. I want us happy. It hurts me so much when you pull this shit.” Peter leans back over him and slid his hand up and down Wade's jaw. His he was a cat he'd purr or at least that's what he imagined. The words hurt but Peters hurt more. He noted the three hurts in a row.

“I hate your guts, Wilson. Really do.” His tone was light and fluffy, joking. Wade's frown in progress tried to backtrack into a smile. Almost. Peter gave him a slow kiss on the lips. Of course, Wade had no way of kissing back since he couldn't even scratch his nose, but the warm press of his boyfriend's lips was nice.

Wade didn't know what made him want to do things like try and backflip into a one-handed handstand on the roof of the Empire State Building with a shot up leg, but he did them. He questioned this often during times when the voices in his head were recovering from dying. He did things like that before the shit hit the fan, the killings and gang fights felt good after free scaling buildings. With the new and literal immortality, he faced it didn't ease him to calm down.

Maybe it was her, the mother he never had. Teasing like a laser light and making him be the cat in a mindless chase. He was thinking about cats a lot. His leg shook which sometimes happened when his muscles woke up. He grunted when Peter jumped, earning him a sad smile. “We'll give you a nice rub down later, okay?” His eyes rolled back, imagining the ‘after-death’ massages he got to ease the pain. Usually, they ended up in sex, which Wade liked very much. He felt his abdominal muscles twitch, sadly no response from his dick. Pity.

They were on the next flat part of the exterior of the building, at least he assumed since he fell off. His other leg jolted, Peter, reaching over and rubbing down the thigh carefully.   
Success!

His dick happily responded when Peter's' hand got closer. He snorted at Wade's intake of breath. “See, we're almost there.” He sits upright again, then he moves so he can press more soft kisses onto Wade's face and neck. “The faster you can be ready to go, the faster we can get going.” He nips a little at his collarbone. 

His tongue weakly pressed to the back of his teeth, licking his lips wasn't a gesture he could carry out right now. Peter lifted his lifeless hand and held it in both of his. “I can't understand why. Like I get the Boxes being silent but...is it because it hurts? Is it that bad?” His baby boy's voice was so sad. His head hurt, a sign of bad things to come.

He was a bad kid since around...forever. Abuse, neglect, pretty much anything within those areas he was exposed to. He was no stranger to suicidal thoughts. Never a religious person, the end of all things felt pretty cool to a cracked down kid. He learned that other people feared death, making him feel powerful. Even though he'd once welcomed it he'd rather do something with it.

He killed in petty crimes, joined the military and killed, became a mercenary, and all in all he felt good about it. After a while he wasn't mad about it, he was just mad that people were so fucked. At least his fucked was stopping their fuck from fucking. Weapon X brought some of that anger back, but it just died down again. The only downsides he could think of were being ugly and the boxes.

Peter lifts his mask to run his hand over his cheeks. Wade's throat was dry, but at least he knew it was dry. “Www” His lips weakly opened and the sound was downright ugly. He couldn't describe how, but he hated how it sounded. “Wwwwuh” The few conscious muscles in his face twitched, an attempted cringe. Peter was well practiced in Dead!Deadpool language so he adjusted Wade's head onto his lap and lifted the mercs mask, grabbing a water bottle and slowly pouring some into his mouth. 

His eyes looked up at the man who no matter what was willing to wait for him to get better. Whether it was for him to come back to life, to wait for him to calm down from whatever raging emotions he was feeling, or to encourage him to be the man he wanted to be. Honestly, he wasn't guilty of the killings, even today. He just wanted Peter to be proud of him and to love him.

He felt his chest burning, a worse sign. A scream tore through him, Peter's body tensed under him. “I've got you, Wade, I'm here.” 

Aunt May, in addition to being hilarious and a great cook, was wiser than any cartoon owl or old wizard. She brought him up so well, he was such a great guy. Saying killing instead of unalive, it's not ‘okay’ but you forgive the person. I'm sorry and thank you, and of course, his trademark of ‘with great power comes great responsibility’, the but little-known fact was May said that when Ben was promoted at work and became in charge of fourteen workers. He told Wade all these little sayings that he lived by. 

Peter was such a good person Wade felt blessed to be around him. He was gorgeous, smart, funny, and the kindest person he could think of. He felt like Peter was one of those dog memes, too good and too pure for this world. Peter didn't have a lot of cuts or scars on his perfect, dancer-like body. There were a few that were from his life as Spiderman, but most of them were from his childhood. Wade's hands were starting to come back and his fingers flexed weakly. He wanted to kill everyone who hurt this golden man, it was horrible. Wade had dealt with a lot of violence directed at him and he coped as well as any other mass murderer, but Peter couldn't. He never had the I-Don't-Care-I'll-Kill-You attitude that Wade had, he was a sad little kid without parents who thought he deserved crap. Even when he was able to fight back to his old tormentors he didn't.

It could have and might have been the admiration that sent his heart racing and the gears of his mind turning, but another pained scream roared out of him. His back arched this time, a little but still moving. He noted that his ribs seemed to have taken more damage than h3 thought. 

He'd do anything to see Peter's eyes right now, the mask was always the object of Wade's attention. Their masks held the same purpose with the different meaning to that reasoning. Secrets. Wade wanted his face covered because he was ashamed of his tattered flesh, he gave his name, age, business and address to pretty much anyone who asked. Peters secret was so no one would see his face as well, but instead of the shame it was to protect those he loved, his mind was always on others. Wade remembers spending nights just staring at walls imagining what his hero looked like. He didn't believe the other man when he admitted to the same schoolgirl daydreams. Those eyes would put any Disney princess to shame, that figure could make any figure skater envious. Peter Parker's ass was plump and perky like the picture of perfection for any pornstar or trophy wife to shame.

Somewhere in the endless caverns of his mind, he hears the echo of a familiar voice call out all the ‘P’ words he's used.

Peter's' lips were always pink and Wade loved how they looked when they were swollen after passionate kisses. His teeth were perfect and his facial structure was prominent yet soft, like someone gently filed down the rough spots. “What are you smiling at ya’ dork?” He didn't notice that he was halfway to an actual smile, but he fought his weak muscles to keep themselves under control when the little giggle sounded.

Not only was he absolutely gorgeous, like a piece of fine art, but the way he talked kept Wade in a trace. He could use show references while talking about science, while using shitty puns and sarcasm, wrapping it up oh so nicely with his little accent. The ‘you’ soften didn't have the long ‘ooh’ at the end but replaced them with ‘ah’ sounds. Many other things made Peter perfect, even if Wade was how he was. 

Peter was absolutely stunning and Wade just...wasnt. He uses to be, but not now. Even his he was still Pretty Boy Wilson he didn't think he'd have a chance. He didn't know why he had a chance now.

His body felt tense, meaning he wasn't limp anymore. For the most part, he could weakly move. He works with his body to move his jaw open and closed. Peter adjusts himself so they can kiss. Peters going slow, soft kisses onto the corners of his mouth. Only one or two before he sits back up and pats Wade's chest. “Not yet tiger, we still have another ten minutes at least.” 

Peters memory was nearly photographic, everything around his was easily absorbed and analyzed. He had a chart on the fridge at home that listed fatal injuries and how long it took Wade to recover enough to stand. The spider bite increased his abilities to access things around him, making him impossibly more genius. He was tragically gifted with his beautiful head like a Shakespeare play. It was tragic, he often said when he slept sometimes he'd see Gwen fall or his uncle be shot so vividly that he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't in the night. He would never forget the faces of the people who made his young life hell, he would never forget seeing Wade kill. His katanas were in a closet because Peter would quake at the memory of them hilt deep in a man's stomach. His memory helped him with work and made everything he said to Wade more sincere. He stayed even if he could recall the exact color of the eyes of one of Wade's victims, he was able to still have hope. A sad life coated in flowery words and delicate script.

Peter gave him some more water and yawned. He was up all night and most of the day just running or fighting, and he couldn't go long without sleep. Wades mutations allowed him to continue without fuel but he worried about keeping Peter up all the time. “Srr- “ He pulled away from the water and let it pour over his shoulder. “I'm sorry too. You know how freaky I am about this stuff, especially the whole falling off buildings thing.” That joke couldn't make Wade laugh even if he was able to. His heart ached for Peter.

This handsome man with a heart of gold had it made. Gwen Stacy was perfect from what he could find, and Peter always smiled sadly when he said her name. Like he didn't even know he was doing it. The voice echoing in his skull got louder, letting him know that he'd never be good enough for Peter, for Gwen, and not even the woman who he loved more than anything.

He loved and lost many times in his life. Many ex-wives, some lovers in his travels. Hell, other universes he had a daughter. Vanessa was probably the first love he had, some really ooey-gooey stuff. He left to protect her, came back to save her, and in the end of it all, she left him because he wouldn't have sex with her. His disfigurement due to extreme torture making him into a mess of mental trash wasn't sexy. So much for love. Copycat can go shapeshift into a piece of shit. Vanessa let all the ooey-gooey turn to toxic sludge. He had a lot of exes, the comics loved making him hurt. He's loved and lost and been tricked. None of them were like Peter. Spiderman had his outfit, his humor, and a perfect ass. He was a hero. Again, Wade ached for him and his losses. Again, he reminded himself he wasn't the perfect person Peter needed even if it's not what he wanted.

His hands were always the first to jump back into the swing of things. His wrist flopped around with his fingers feeling around for another hand. Peter lifted it in his own. “I don't understand why you do this stuff.” He repeating that phrase. He doesn't understand and Wade preferred to leave it at that.

She was perfect to him. All his love, even for Peter, wasn't comparable to what he felt for her. Looking over she rolled her eyes at him. He was married to Queen of the Undead for a while. Shiklah wasn't that great to him and eventually, after whatever abuse took place she left him. Queen meant she ruled them, she didn't groom them. Death was a separate being was nicer than his ex-wife by far. A grim reaper was more of her job. Picking you up, calming you down, taking you for whatever was next. The first time he saw her he had been bleeding out from a shot to his shoulder and in bad shape in some hospital. She leaned against the window with her arms crossed like she was bored. He wouldn't see her again for years. 

When he was diagnosed with cancer she would make an appearance during any dizzy spell. Two days into the torture at Weapon X she just roamed the halls. Most of the time she'd pop her bubble gum and look around with pity. The longer he was there the longer she stayed in his vision. During the final act to get his body to mutate, he saw her outside the glass. She tapped on it and cocked her eyebrow before looking around the room. He smiled at her as much as he could through the unbearable and unrelenting pain. She waved at him.

They become good friends, he could see her after he had made a kill or when he had died himself. She stayed around up around the point when the pain in the ass voices returned. Friends probably wouldn't be the word she'd use if she even talked at all. She'd smile, wave, roll her eyes, even flipped him off a few times. She used her hands a lot leading Wade to believe she couldn't talk at all. During the precious moments after death, shed takes someone's hand a walk away. For children or kind, innocent people she'd give a kiss on the forehead. Wades watched her gather small kids into her arms and carry them away from the corpses. Those who weren't innocent would receive violent kicks or slaps to get the spirit to follow her wherever she would take them, Wade wondered if he'd get a kiss or a kick or anything at all. A few times she's almost touched his face, letting her hand hover over his cheek before his eyes would flash and she'd drop her hand to move back. 

She was gorgeous. Her long hair often fell loose against her body and she usually wandered around near his body in all black clothing. She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up a lot and the contrast of her rosy cheeks haunted his dreams a lot. She looked angelic and ghostly at the same time which made his stomach do flips out of anxiety. He loved her so much. Wade wanted to be with her, to just stand up and leave with her. Her shadow reached for him and her aura called for him. He wanted to see her however long he got to but he'd prefers for however long it took for him to die. He loved her, not in the way he had loved anyone else, more intense and less lust. She made him feel safe and Wade loved to see her near him. In a way, he felt friend zoned by death. His shoulder jerked and she rolled her eyes at him. 

His torso was more or less responsive now, he'd be back playing ball with the big boys soon. She shrugged at him from her spot away from him. She'd be gone soon, he felt worse in these moments. So close but never able to get where he wants to be.

{Y: Speed up to when were back, so like now.}  
[W: Yay!]

Peter swipes his hand through the water, checking the temperature. Once he deems it reasonable he takes Wade's hand to help his stiff body into the tub. He washes him in some extra sensitive bullshit soap that smelled like flowers and its sweet. He loves when he can relax like this, have Peters innocent heart focused on him and him only. No sex or arguing or crime fighting. Even if he felt bad about hurting Peters feelings with his relentless chase to see Death, he liked the aftermath. He really likes to relax and have Peter hold him and kiss him and wrap him in fuzzy bathrobes.

After, a good few hours after Wades been relaxed, he likes to kiss Peter.

[W: Ha! Gaaayyyyy!]  
{Y: This is why we weren't in the beginning.}

It was lazy and sweet, usually, just a slow handjob and a soft kisses, whispers of I Love You and doe eyes staring right into the purest parts of his fucked up heart. He did love him, Wade knew that. He was happy with that and he wouldn't trade it for anything in this world.

{Y: Go on, finish the thought, Wilson. Stop being a sap and tell them what you do with your paycheck.} 

He would tell Peter he had work, as long as they weren't killed Peter wasn't too upset. Most of the time he'd sneak out to a little cabin he bought with his murder money. It was stocked with guns and pills and knives and all that not so fun stuff. Money made the world go round, you didn't need it to be happy but you needed it to live. You could buy your boyfriend new glasses after he accidentally steps on them, buys his aunt one of those chair things that drive up the stairs so you don't have to walk up. He liked those things. But he used money not to live.

{Y: Your grammar is nasty.}

He didn't want Peter to worry so he ran away and purchased drugs and a house and all this stuff to make himself feel better. He liked to lie on the floor and watch her as she roamed the room or sat by the fire. His favorite part was when she'd walk around looking at the bookshelves. Shed dogear pages, the tips of her fingers yellowing the page. Lots of old poems and stuff since he bought the space off some old romantic. Poems about love and holding on tight. She tried to make him understand in her silent ways.

{Y: You're really depressing dude.}

[W: It wasn't like you're cheating on Peter. There was no way to do something with Death, that's just weird.]

He felt guilty but every now and then he'd use his prized purchase for its intended use just to feel something new. He couldn't die and that's the one thing he wanted. He wouldn't leave Peter for anything in this world, but if he had had to crush Peters hard under his boot like a roach in exchange for peace in the afterlife, he's not sure what he'd pick. 

[W: We know what you would pick. So do you.]

He looks to his left and sees Peter pop some candy in his mouth, his earbuds playing some song that made his head bop around, his glasses sliding down his nose to rest just at the tip. He tugs one of the earbuds out and he removes the glasses to put them on the table. He kisses him like he means it because he does. 

“Are you okay Wade?” Peters holding on to the collar of his shirt and their foreheads are pressed together. He's whispering, sometimes he does that when he's not sure what's happening in Wade's head.

{Y: We don't know either.}  
[W: No clue.}

“I'm just thinking about her.” He's been trying to be as honest as possible. Peter just wants to help him. He pulls away a little, not a lot. Peter has some crazy idea that Wade would find someone else. Even if Peter wasn't the only one who wanted him he wouldn't leave him. “Death.”

“Your ex-wife? I thought she was nuts.” His hands are flat now, not balling up the shirt. “No, she's a queen.” Peter playfully rolls his eyes. “No you're the queen, and she's death.”

[W: Oooooh good one baby boy!]

“No, Death. Like Death Comma Herself. Grim reaper crazy killer housewife deal.”

{Y: You're trying to flatter her because you took the smut out.}

“You're such a loser Wade.” Peter kisses his nose then grabs his glasses. “Wanna play Just Dance? I'm kind of bored.” Wade shakes his head. “I'll just watch. My legs feel kinda bad.” 

So he watches Peter laugh as he breaks Wade's record on ‘Call Me Maybe’ and he looks around the room. He's made a home for himself after everything life gave him. He was okay for now and he was pretty sure that's what she wanted to say to him. Maybe one day she'd come for him. Until then, he was happy with what he had.


End file.
